The station lay buried under a sheet of glittering frost. Roof tiles, cobblestones, even the Kabane themselves—all were sealed in crystalline ice, their twisted forms locked in place like grotesque sculptures. The silence that followed was suffocating, broken only by the faint creak of frozen corpses splitting beneath the weight of their own stillness.
The sight forced a single thought into the minds of every onlooker, from Ayame Yomogawa to the ever-curious Mumei:
"Is this… the power of a god?"
Even in the distant chat group, stunned silence lingered before the messages began to trickle in.
Kato Megumi: Wait… is that really Haruto-kun?
Frieren: It seems he's grown even stronger than before. Noticeably so.
Kato Megumi: So this… this is the real Haruto-kun…
Her message carried both awe and an unshakable curiosity.
Stella: Hold on—how is he growing this fast?!
Once, Stella had been confident—convinced she outstripped him by miles, refusing his trades with a smug assurance. But now, only days later, he had already outpaced her.
Saeko Busujima: "Perhaps… Haruto-kun grows stronger through battle."
She had witnessed it firsthand. With each clash, each fight, Haruto climbed higher. Watching his calm, predatory presence now, Saeko finally understood the strange ache inside her. It wasn't some side effect, nor addiction—it was longing. Heartache. She had fallen for this man, craving the thrill of surrendering to someone far stronger.
Akame: "So strong…"
If only, she thought, someone like him could stand with Night Raid…
Sakurajima Mai: "…"
Mai said nothing. She couldn't reconcile this ruthless warrior with the man who had casually accompanied her shopping only days ago. Yes, their interactions had begun as transactions—but the question Kato had teased her with still lingered. Could someone fall for a man they barely knew? Unless it was love at first sight… but Mai wasn't the type to believe in something so shallow.
Haruto lowered his hand, feeling the rush of something intangible flood through him—experience, or rather, strength. He smiled faintly.
"So it's true. Killing Kabane really does let me level up."
It wasn't just ice encasing them. He had frozen them at the very core—their cells, their energy, their life—until they shattered into fragile remnants scattered on the wind.
He turned to Ayame Yomogawa, his voice calm.
"You were heading for the Kotetsujyo, right? Lead the way."
Ayame jolted, shaken from her daze. "Y-yes! This way!"
By the time the group reached the armored train, Haruto felt a ripple in his mind—.
[Ding! Trade completed!]
Knowledge of archery filtered into Haruto's mind, He absorbed the knowledge but didn't linger on it.
Ayame busied herself with preparations to set the Kotetsujyo in motion. But when Haruto's hand closed gently around her wrist, she froze, face flushing crimson.
"M-My lord, please… not yet," she stammered. "Once we depart Iwato Station, I—I will give myself fully to you. Please just wait a little longer!"
Her words stunned those nearby. Gasps rippled among the survivors. Now it made sense. Their noble lady had offered even her body to this man—to this god—for their sake. They bowed their heads in reverence, awed by her sacrifice.
Haruto blinked, then pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.
"…Do I really look that desperate?" he muttered
His sigh was half amusement, half irritation. "Relax. I wasn't going to collect right now. I was going to tell you not to start the train yet."
Ayame hesitated. "Then… what do you want us to do?"
"Turn the steam whistle up. Maximum volume."
Her face drained of color. "W-What?! That will draw every Kabane in the area!"
Haruto's smile sharpened, cold yet playful.
"Exactly. I want them to come."
He let go of her hand and stepped forward, his gaze fixed on the horizon.
"That way… I can kill them all."
Resistance was impossible. Ayame swallowed hard, and the others didn't even dare protest.
The whistle wailed—long, piercing, unnatural.
Inside the train, anxiety rippled through the survivors. On the rooftop, Mumei leaned forward curiously while Ayame's knuckles whitened around the railing.
"Is he really a god…?" Mumei wondered aloud.
She didn't know. But she was about to find out.
The ground rumbled.
From every street and tunnel, the roar of Kabane swelled like thunder. A black tide of flesh and metal surged forward—thousands upon thousands, the horde rushing as one, like a flood of death.
Mumei's mouth fell open. "So many! Even you can't kill them all. Shouldn't we be running?"
Haruto tilted his head slightly, chuckling.
"Run? And waste all this?" His eyes gleamed, sharp as ice. "That's a lot of free experience coming my way."
For the first time, he stopped playing around. His expression shifted—cold, commanding, untouchable.
The air itself seemed to answer him.
---
The temperature plummeted. Frost raced along steel and stone. And then—
The sky changed.
Moisture condensed, frozen solid in an instant, until the heavens themselves bristled with countless spears of ice. Each was half a meter long, their density so great that they blotted out the sun, turning day into a twilight of sharpened glass.
The crowd trembled. Their breath fogged in the killing cold.
When the first Kabane entered the radius, Haruto's eyes narrowed.
"Fall."
At his word, the sky obeyed.
The ice spears screamed downward in a storm of silver death.
Shhhhrrk—!
The Kabane were obliterated where they stood, impaled, shredded, broken. The spears reformed and fell again, endlessly, a blizzard of destruction no creature could withstand. Not a single Kabane reached the Kotetsujyo.
---
Inside the fortress-train, survivors sank to their knees, trembling.
"He… he really is a god…"
"This must be the domain of an ice god!"
Kneeling, trembling, the survivors no longer saw Haruto Amakawa as a man. To them, he was divinity wrapped in mortal skin.
Above them all, Ayame staggered as the cold wind howled. She would have fallen—if not for the warm, steady hand that caught her.
Haruto's arm slipped around her waist, pulling her close. His smile was gentle, but his words teased with quiet danger.
"Careful now. You still haven't paid your reward."
His expression was calm, almost playful, yet his presence was overwhelming—terrifying, awe-inspiring, irresistible.
Ayame's breath caught. She looked up at him, heart pounding, eyes filled with both fear and something dangerously close to worship.
"…Haruto-sama…"
In that moment, even she felt it. The man before her wasn't human. He wasn't a hero, nor a savior.
For her—and for all of them—there was no denying it.
Tonight, they had seen the hand of a god.